


Miss Dolan (If You're Nasty)

by jaicubed



Category: Youtubers
Genre: Grethan, Lingerie, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-05-23 18:30:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14939589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaicubed/pseuds/jaicubed
Summary: Ethan has a big secret. Fortunately, Grayson is too busy with his new girlfriend to notice.





	1. Chapter 1

Ethan slid down in his chair as he saw James approach. He had on the darkest sunglasses he owned and the hood on his sweatshirt was up, but there was really no such thing as being  _ too _ inconspicuous in this sort of situation. 

 

Why had they decided to meet at an outdoor cafe anyway?

 

“Here,” James said, tossing a bag onto the table. Ethan grabbed the bag, shoving it into his backpack and looking around frantically to make sure no one had seen.

 

“I told you to switch out the bag,” Ethan hissed. “What if someone saw?”

 

James rolled his eyes. “Who gives a fuck? It’s lingerie, not crack cocaine. Although, that might be a cheaper habit than this one. By the way, you owe me five hundred bucks.”

 

“Not so loud, dumbass. And _ I  _ give a fuck,” Ethan said, pulling out his phone. “You are the only person on the planet who knows about this and I intend to keep it that way.”

 

“Please, don’t act like you’re such a special snowflake. No one cares about a little panty fetish. If you were the only guy who got off on wearing a garter belt, there wouldn’t be entire porn sites dedicated to it.” James ignored Ethan’s scandalized look, choosing to peruse the cafe menu instead. 

 

“I told you before, I don’t  _ get off _ on it,” Ethan said defensively. He looked up from his phone screen and sighed at James’s skeptical look. “Really.”

 

James tsked in obvious pity. “Oh, honey.”

 

“I don’t!” Ethan repeated. “I just...I just like it, okay?”

 

“Then what do you do while you’re wearing it? Play golf? Clean the kitchen?” James asked, raising an eyebrow. “Please, sweetheart, I wasn’t born yesterday.”

 

“I...I don’t know, I look at myself, I guess,” Ethan answered, blushing. “I’ll play video games and...and watch Netflix and stuff. Not that it’s any of your business.”

 

James looked at a notification on his phone and nodded at Ethan. “Got the Venmo transfer, thanks. You know, if you really only sit around in this stuff, you should consider going with a less expensive brand. Five hundred bucks is a lot to throw down for a negligee you’re not even getting fucked in.”

 

“La Perla is the highest quality I can get in Los Angeles, short of special ordering shit from Paris. It’s  _ classy _ ,” Ethan emphasized. “Not like the garbage at Victoria’s Secret.”

 

“Excuse me, I had no idea you were such a sophisticated woman,” James replied blandly, and Ethan barely had time to roll his eyes before the waiter appeared in front of them. 

 

They ordered lunch, and when the waiter left again James leaned forward and considered Ethan for several seconds. “You know, a real sophisticated woman would commit to this thing. Really go all out.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ethan asked irritably. “I’ve spent almost two grand on panties at this point. I think I’m in it to win it.”

 

James glanced down at Ethan’s legs, his long shorts covering his recognizable tattoos but not the forest of hair on his calves. “No offense, honey, but you could do with some grooming. If your legs are that hairy, I can’t imagine what your asshole looks like.”

 

“Good. I never want my asshole to cross your mind ever again,” Ethan replied, the look of disgust on his face almost comical.

 

James ignored him. “And what about shoes? Accessories? Make-up? A woman in La Perla wouldn’t be caught dead without a pair of Louboutin heels, several carats worth of diamonds, and a nice red Tom Ford lip.”

 

“I don’t care about that stuff,” Ethan said, although he sounded unconvinced.James raised an eyebrow.

 

“Okay, I don’t care about the diamonds. The other stuff...the other stuff could be okay.” Ethan blushed for the fifth time and slunk further down in his seat. It’s not that the thought of going full sexpot hadn’t occurred to him, he just wasn’t sure how to proceed.

 

The more elaborate things got, the more likely he’d fuck up. He’d leave a little lipstick on his teeth, or break his ankle walking in a stiletto, and it would all be over. The worst would happen. 

 

Grayson would find out.

 

He’d had enough close calls already, since the concept of knocking was as foreign to Grayson as quantum mechanics. If there were more moving parts….God only knew what would happen.

 

Ethan had spent his whole life being the scrawnier twin, despite his back breaking workouts in the gym. Grayson was just bigger, and stronger, and there was nothing he could do about it. It wasn’t that he really cared about being some macho body builder-- it was the sibling rivalry that really got him. 

 

He’d over compensated his whole life, acting out, talking big, trying to make up for the muscle he lacked in sheer personality. But it had become exhausting. He didn’t want to do any of it any more. Not that he wanted to turn in to a simpering, delicate flower, either, but he’d always had trouble staying between extremes. It was one or the other, no gray areas allowed.

 

And now, with this underwear thing, it was even more difficult. He wasn’t ashamed of it- he’d told James after all- but things with Grayson were different. 

 

He’d die if Grayson knew.

 

“Then it’s settled! We’ll take you to get waxed ASAP, and then we’ll go back to my place for a make-up lesson,” James said, clapping his hands. “And maybe you can even model your new purchase for me.”

 

“Not on your life, asshat.”

 

James pouted and crossed his arms. “After everything I’ve done for you. You can kiss your personal lingerie shopper goodbye.”

 

Ethan waved him off and considered James’ plan. A small thrill went through him at the thought of smooth skin, how nice he would look in lace without dark hair poking through. But wouldn’t Grayson notice? The loop of fear and panic started up again in his brain, but he stopped short when his subconscious interrupted.

_ Grayson’ hardly notices you at all anymore, now that he has that new girlfriend _ . Ethan gritted his teeth. The voice wasn’t wrong, but did it have to be such a dick?

 

“So, is Grayson still up his girlfriend’s ass 24/7?” James asked, taking a sip of his water.

 

Sometimes Ethan swore that James could read his mind. 

 

“Yes. But never say it like that again. I don’t want to think about my twin brother being in anyone’s ass,” Ethan said, wrinkling his nose.

 

“Really? I think about your twin brother being in my ass all the time.” James smirked and Ethan mimed gagging. “Anyway, I don’t like her. At all.”

 

“You’re just jealous,” Ethan pointed out. He didn’t like her much either, but only because she was monopolizing Grayson’s time. She seemed like a nice enough person.

 

“Obviously,” James replied. “The thought of anyone else touching that gorgeous, tan, chiseled body is fucking awful. But it’s more than that. I get the nagging feeling she’s one of those controlling, overbearing girlfriends. The type who demands to know your iPhone password and gets mad if you so much as shit without her permission.”

 

“You’ve met her once,”’ Ethan said, nodding at the waiter as he brought their coffees. He waited until he’d left before continuing. “There’s no way you got all of that out of the hour we spent together.”

 

Ethan had the same nagging feeling as James, to be honest, but he didn’t want to encourage James’ conspiracy. Gray was his brother, and he had to support him. Unless this girl started affecting their channel or started pitting them against each other, there really wasn’t much he could do.

 

“I’m a good judge of character,” James sniffed. “But anyway, it makes me depressed to talk about this. Let’s talk about your makeover instead. I already know which shade of red I want your lips to be.”

 

“Am I going to have any say in this?” Ethan asked drily. 

 

“Not on your life, asshat.”

 

Ethan grinned. “Touche.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Ethan winced as he sat down on James' couch. James stifled a giggle and Ethan shot him a death glare. "Fuck. You."

"Beauty is pain, honey. Waxing is so much more efficient than shaving. And without all the nasty red bumps." James ran a thumb over one of Ethan's eyebrows, considering what appeared to be the mysteries of the universe, by the look on his face. "They did a good job on your brows."

"Yeah, they did a job on my taint and balls, too, but I wouldn't call it good," Ethan said, swatting James' hand away from his face. "I think my armpits were the worst. I can't believe you talked me into this."

"You'll thank me later, trust me." James gestured towards his make-up table. "Shall we begin?"

"Can't I recover for at least five seconds?" Ethan groaned. 

"Please, you're beautifying yourself, not running a triathlon. Some of us have videos to film later and can't sit around all day waiting for certain cry babies to grow some balls." James crossed his arms. "Look, I've already picked out all the products you'll need. All we have to do now is practice."

Ethan sighed. "Fine. But I also have to film a video later, so we better get every fucking drop of that shit off my face before I go home."

"Oh, sweetie, once you see yourself in this red lip you're never going to want to take it off."

Ethan made a skeptical face and an even ruder hand gesture, but James ignored him. He hauled Ethan off the couch and pushed him towards the vanity. "Sit. Here."

Ethan flopped into the chair and looked at himself in the lighted mirror. His skin was doing much better than usual. Did he even need any make-up?

"Now, a sophisticated woman knows that less is more. You don't need a lot of products for a bombshell look. But what you do need is a flawless complexion."

Ethan snorted. "Tell that to my hormones."

"Make-up was made to put hormones in their place.  Now, pay attention. I want to help but I'm not a fucking saint, so I'm not doing this twice."

It wasn't the first time that James had done Ethan's face, so Ethan was somewhat familiar with the products. For the first time, though, he actually paid attention when James spoke. When he was finished, his face looked more feminine, but more than that, it looked like it was glowing. Healthy. 

Sexy.

"Gorgeous. You look perfect." James clapped his hands together and smiled so wide that Ethan couldn't help but smile too. As annoying as James could be sometimes, Ethan guessed he was lucky to have a friend who was so supportive.

"Now, there are only a few more steps. Get these lashes on, sweetie." 

Ethan applied the lashes and mascara pretty well, and after having a near melt-down with his eyeliner, he finally succeeded in getting it on his lid in an acceptable fashion.

"Remember, if you have a bold lip, you need a simple eye. That's why we've only done some liner and these fantastic lashes. But do you see how much of a difference it makes? Look at those sexy bedroom eyes." James let out a half-squeal, half-giggle, and Ethan didn't even roll his eyes. His heart was too full, and he laughed despite himself. 

"Okay, okay, I'm calm. Now, the lips. First, liner. Second, the lipstick. Honey, this red is going to blow your mind."

\--------

"Hi guys, we're back!"

Grayson was in an incredible mood. He was exuberant, vibrant, shining from within.

Getting laid regularly was better than any anti-depressant, as far as Ethan could tell.

Ethan had been kind of excited about today's video. He'd been in good spirits after leaving James' house (after triple-checking that he'd removed all his war paint) and had been looking forward to spending time with his brother.

Now that Grayson was spending every other night at Daria's house, Ethan's time with his twin had been cut in half. For two people that had grown up spending every waking moment together, it was proving to be a tough adjustment. 

At least, tough for Ethan.

He was used to a constant companion. To texts being responded to right away, to the car always being right around the corner. He had never considered himself  _needier_  than Grayson, but he was finding that having to do his own thing was taking its toll on him more than it was on Grayson.

Of course, Grayson had simply replaced him with another human being, while Ethan was in uncharted, solitary waters. He supposed that was the thing that was the hardest to swallow- the fact that Grayson was happier than ever with someone else as his constant. 

It was growing up, it was moving on, it was becoming their own individual, adult selves. He knew that. But he missed Grayson, even when he was in the same house. He was miles away, miles  _ahead_ , even when he was sitting next to him at the kitchen counter. 

Ethan put that all into the back of his mind during filming. He wanted to be in the moment, enjoy it. Their fans knew when they were dwelling on personal shit, just by the looks on their faces. So he threw himself into the video, into his brother's company.

"That was awesome." Grayson gushed. "I didn't think we could do it without Bryant, but we fucking did."

Ethan grinned. "You're fucking right we did."

"I think we've earned a nice dip in the pool, don't you?" Grayson cuffed him on the shoulder and bounded outside, shouting with delight. "It's so fucking hot out here, dude! The water is going to feel amazing."

Ethan followed Grayson warily, watching from the doorway as his twin disrobed.  _Fuck_. 

While Ethan had been feeling sorry for himself, Grayson must have gained twenty pounds of muscle. Ethan had never seen him so bulky. For a crazy second, Ethan wondered if Grayson had started taking steroids, but then he remembered Daria. When Grayson had a girlfriend, he was in the gym twice a day. 

"What's the point of having a girlfriend if you aren't strong enough to fuck her against a wall?" Grayson had replied a few days earlier when Ethan had asked him about his increase in work-outs. Ethan liked to exercise as much as the next guy, but even by their standards, Grayson was being excessive.

"What's the point of fucking a girl against a wall if you don't have a dick?" Ethan had shot back with a grin, after which he was promptly tackled to the floor and made to beg for mercy.

Ethan, on the other hand, had been skipping the heavy weights and zeroing in on specific body parts during his work-outs.

Mostly his butt.

Look, he didn't mind a bit of muscle with his lingerie, but it was already hell getting into a corset as it was. He wanted the sort of lean, sinewy muscle of a runner, not a linebacker. So he'd done mostly that- run- with the occasional lunge.

"You coming in or what, pussy?" Grayson called out. He was currently lounging on their new inflatable turtle, his dick out like he owned the place.

Ethan swallowed. For the first time in his life, his insecurity wasn't centered around his scrawniness- at least, in comparison to Grayson.

He had zero body hair. At all. 

While the possibility of swimming had occurred to him while he was on the waxing table, he'd imagined he'd have more time to come up with a plan. Now, he was forced to make a decision. Either make some lame excuse and escape inside, or jump in the pool and let the chips fall where they may. He was good at improvising, right?

Ethan took a deep breath and jogged outside, ridding himself of his clothes. He thought he'd done it pretty fast, getting into the water before Grayson could really see.

That was never the case.

"Did you shave your pubes?" Grayson asked, his mouth slightly agape. 

"Why are you looking at my dick?" Ethan asked shortly, dunking himself under the water and swimming a respectable distance away from his brother.

Grayson abandoned his pool toy and followed Ethan with interest. "You did, didn't you?"

Ethan tried to escape his brother's gaze, but Grayson caught onto his arm and held him with an iron grip. "Oh my God, your arms." He lifted Ethan's arm, ignoring Ethan's squawk of protest. His eyes went wide at the sight of Ethan's bare armpits. "Did you shave  _everything_?"

Ethan could feel his heart start to beat faster. The evidence was right there- he couldn't really  _lie_  about it. Fuck, what had he been thinking?

"Waxed, actually. What's it to you?" Ethan tried to tug his arm away, but Grayson held on tighter.

"Why the fuck would you do that?" Grayson's tone wasn't cruel or judgmental (okay, maybe a  _little_  judgmental) but genuinely curious. 

"I'm considering a new career in porn," Ethan answered flippantly. "Get your hand off me."

"Like hell you are," Grayson said, an eyebrow raised. "What's the real reason?"

"I lost a bet. To James," Ethan lied. He was sort of impressed with how fast he'd come up with it. 

"What kind of bet?"

"He dared me to talk to this girl at Jamba Juice, and if I didn't get her phone number, I'd have to wax my whole body." Ethan gestured towards himself with his free arm. "Obviously, I didn't get the number."

Grayson considered this, releasing Ethan's arm after a few moments. "What was he going to have to do if you  _did_  get the number?"

"Grow a beard."

Grayson shuddered. "I'm glad you suck at picking up girls."

Ethan flipped Grayson off and splashed him with a wave of tepid pool water, beginning all-out war. He lost, of course, but it was worth it to distract Grayson from any more questions about his body hair, or lack thereof.

"Seriously, we need to work on your pick-up skills," Grayson said when they'd tired themselves out. He leaned against the side of the pool and grinned at Ethan. "Listen, this weekend. We can go out, you, me, and Daria. Get a little practice in."

"Sounds great. Being a third wheel always impresses the ladies," Ethan replied drily. 

"Come on, you won't be a third wheel. It will be like having two wing men." Grayson clapped Ethan on the shoulder. "What do you say?"

Ethan looked away from Grayson, unnerved by his eagerness. "I don't know...I'll think about it."


	3. Chapter 3

"You've got to practice sometime," James said. "This is the perfect opportunity."

Ethan took a sip of his coffee, frowning when he saw he'd left a lipstick stain on his mug. He held it up in front of his phone's camera so James could see it over FaceTime. "How do I keep this from happening?"

"Stop changing the subject. Get those heels on. I gotta go. Bye, gorgeous." 

Ethan sighed and set his phone down on the counter. He downed the rest of his coffee, straightened his shoulders, and walked back to his bedroom. 

James had given him a pair of beginner heels, high enough to be sexy but nowhere near as tall as the Louboutins he had mentioned the other day. Ethan was extremely grateful for that. He slipped them on, surprised at how well they fit. 

He looked at himself in his mirror. 

God, he was in heaven.

Grayson had decided to spend the entire day with Daria, leaving Ethan at home to edit since it was his turn. Ethan had scrambled to his closet as soon as he'd heard Grayson's car start up, foregoing the new La Perla to put on a black, sheer lace babydoll from Frederick's of Hollywood. It had been a very cheap buy, but he'd had better luck with them than other brands. Besides, his dick fit in the matching panties way better.

He'd done his make-up quite well, if he said so himself, and with the long brown wig James had loaned him and a pair of silver hoops, he looked more feminine then he ever had in his life.

Ethan had thought long and hard about this underwear thing, especially lately, since he'd been alone so often. He truly liked his male body, liked being perceived as masculine. Except when he didn't want to be perceived that way, every once in awhile. That was very clear in his mind.

What wasn't as clear was the stuff James had mentioned during their lunch the other day. The sexual stuff. 

When he'd put on a bra for a video a year ago, he hadn't felt anything but ridiculous in it. But the longer it sat in his closet, the less ridiculous it seemed.

He loved how women looked in nice underwear. He appreciated the details, the extra effort. He was fascinated by the way that a confident woman in a pair of thigh high stockings could make a man speechless. How a wink, and a carefully modulated voice, could bend someone to their will. Drive someone crazy.

Seduction became an object of study, and he was devoted to it. The more he considered it, the more he realized that  _he_  wanted to wield that power, rather than have it wielded against him. He wanted that control. 

He felt sexy in his outfits because he felt like he could do things he struggled to do in real life: grab someone's attention, make them see his way. Sexy was more than just aesthetics: it was an attitude, and he loved it. And when he felt too sexy to sit around...well, he'd rubbed more than one out with a pair of panties hanging off of one foot (not that it was any of James' business.)

Now that he'd been dressing for himself for this long, he was more comfortable than ever in that sexy persona. But more and more, he was realizing that it wasn't enough- not all of the time. He wanted to try his hand at seducing a willing victim, put all his research to the test. And when he imagined that willing victim being a woman...well, it didn't really work. 

That was the part that he hadn't told James.

He tied his black silk robe tight around his waist and took a tentative step. Then another. Then another. He grabbed his phone off the counter and made it to the sliding glass doors that led to their backyard without falling, quite pleased with himself. 

He stepped outside and walked towards the pool. It was much easier walking on concrete than carpet. He did a few laps around the pool. He wobbled a little bit, but it was getting easier the more he walked.

When his feet hurt too much, he collapsed on a lounger in the shade and untied his robe, slipping it off his shoulders and tossing it onto the chair next to him. 

He scrolled through his social media, switching from app to app, until he couldn't take it anymore.

He had vowed to never take a selfie while he was in his outfits. It was too risky. But he was dying to document this occasion, his complete transformation. 

Ethan opened the camera on his phone.

He looked at himself in the screen. He'd worn wigs dozens of times for their YouTube skits, but this was different. This was no joke. 

He tossed his hair over his shoulder, let the strap fall a bit off his shoulder. He changed his expression a dozen times until it was perfect: that sultry, heated gaze that he'd admired for so long. 

He took the photo. 

Before Ethan could look at it, a text message popped up on the screen. 

_Daria got called into work. :( Coming home. Go out for pancakes?_

Ethan looked up at the sky. "Can't I have this  _one_  thing, God? Just this one thing?"

_Be there in five._

"Shit, shit, shit, shit." Ethan tugged the heels off his feet, grabbed his robe, and scurried into the house, making a beeline for his bedroom. 

He pulled off the wig and the babydoll, hopping in to a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and ripped out the hoops, cursing. He kicked it all under his bed, hoping to God that Grayson would be stopped at a very long red light.

He dug in his bag for the make-up remover that James had given him and scrubbed at his face. "Come on, come on, come on. Fuck!"

Ethan heard the door slam and he jumped a foot. He plucked the lashes off his lids and scrubbed harder. 

"E? You ready?"

Grayson's footsteps were getting closer, and Ethan felt like he was in a horror movie, running in the forest trying to get away from a serial killer. 

He splashed some water on his face and when he looked in the mirror again, he was back to regular Ethan. 

Ethan dashed out of the bathroom, promptly crashing into Grayson in the threshold of his bedroom. 

"Whoa, what the fuck?" Grayson stepped back and Ethan pushed him further into the hallway, shutting his bedroom door behind him.

"Ready to go?" Ethan called, jogging towards the door. His heart was still beating a mile a minute. There was thrilling, and there was terrifying. This had definitely crossed the line.

"Uh, yeah." A very perplexed Grayson followed Ethan out of the house.

\------

"I think you're seriously underestimating Grayson. He's not some close-minded asshole."

Ethan put his head in his hands. It had been a full twenty-four hours since his closest call ever and he still felt like he was in a slasher flick.

"I'm never doing it again. I'm done." Ethan sighed and looked at James sadly across the table. "Want some lingerie?"

James rolled his eyes. "Don't be dramatic. Look, this is a part of who you are. You don't have to shove it in his face, but you don't have to hide it either. If he has a problem, he can move out and live with his bimbo."

"Wow, you're not bitter," Ethan commented. James flipped him off. Ethan leaned back in his chair and looked up. "The other day, when I said it wasn't a sexual thing. Well...that's not totally true."

"I'm not an idiot, E. I know that."

"Fine, but don't you understand? There's a line that you don't cross. You can talk about sex in all the graphic detail you want, but..." Ethan trailed off and shook his head. "I don't know what I'm trying to say."

"It's not like you're going to pull your dick out of your panties and jerk off onto his dinner plate, E. Just live your life." James popped a fry into his mouth. "But by all means, come over to my house. I have lovely plates."

"You're not my type," Ethan said, patting James' hand.

"I know, I know, I don't have a vagina," James sighed. 

"Erm...yeah. That's it." 

He cringed as soon as it left his mouth. The room left for interpretation in that response was about as big as James' highlighter collection.

James stopped mid-bite and looked Ethan dead in the eyes. "Ethan Dolan..."

"So, what video are you filming this week?" Ethan asked brightly, but he cowered under James' glare.

"Don't change the subject. Tell me, Ethan, what exactly  _is_  your type?"

James looked at him expectantly, his nails tapping against the table. Ethan swallowed roughly. "I...I don't know."

"How long have you not known?" James asked. His face got softer as he realized that Ethan was genuinely unsure. 

"I mean...I don't know. Probably since this whole thing started." Ethan hadn't planned on talking about this with James, but the guy had always been open and honest with him. He deserved the same in return. "I just...I don't know. Gray's been hounding me to go out and talk to girls- he wants me to go this weekend, with him and Daria, out to party or whatever- but...when I think about the person that I want to be with, it's all fuzzy."

Ethan paused a moment, and James, for once, was totally silent, his expression calm. He gestured for Ethan to continue.

"I find women attractive, absolutely. I know I could still fall in love with a woman. But...but this thing...when I imagine sharing that with someone, it's not necessarily..."

Ethan ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. James took his hand. "Sweetie, don't hurt yourself thinking too hard."

"Yeah, okay." Ethan let out a nervous laugh. "I guess I have been thinking pretty hard about this."

"You don't need to know what your type is, or label it, or whatever. When you find that person, you'll know. And I'll be happy for you no matter what, because you're my friend." James squeezed Ethan's hand and gave him a warm smile. "Besides, I like Grayson better, anyway."

"Bitch," Ethan said with a grin. He felt lighter. He'd always stuck to one extreme or another, but now...he felt comfortable being in a gray area. 

"So, why wasn't I invited to this outing on Saturday?" James asked, the picture of innocence.

Ethan groaned.


	4. Chapter 4

Ethan truly did not know his type - but not for lack of trying.

When he just having a regular jerk-off session, he thought about women. All kinds of women, sucking his dick, bouncing on it, you name it. His porn habits were varied, but mostly whatever amateur video was trending on PornHub was what he watched.

But when he was dressed up, it was different. 

Usually, he was in some sort of wood-paneled study, the type a rich guy might have had fifty years ago. It was night, and the study was always dimly lit. And in the middle of the room was always a red leather armchair. 

He was always decked out: corset, garters, stockings, the whole nine yards. Sometimes he cut right to the chase, sometimes he did a little strip tease. But he always ended up in front of that arm chair, soaking in the awe and admiration of the person in it.

The person in the arm chair was perhaps the biggest mystery of Ethan's young life. It was definitely a man, a man in a white button down and gray slacks. The face was fuzzy, the rest of him hazy too. But his voice was deep, and rich, and Ethan shivered every time the man said his name... _Miss Dolan_.

But Ethan was in control; the man was totally enraptured. So in love, so utterly destroyed by the sight of Miss Dolan in lace and silk that he could barely speak. Ethan could do anything he wanted, because the man was totally at his mercy. The face was fuzzy, but he could see eyes, wide, dark with arousal.

It was months before Ethan tried to go further. To fall into the man's lap, unbutton his shirt and slip his hands underneath. Feel hard muscle, stubble on his face when they kissed. Let the man undress him like he was worshipping him, slow. 

The thought of that man, whoever he was, was often more potent than any set of breasts Ethan could conjure on a normal day. He was the only man that Ethan had every been attracted to, the only man Ethan could imagine touching his body, and the only man Ethan could imagine touching in return. 

And he did imagine it. That man had been inside Miss Dolan in every sense of the word, and Ethan didn't regret a second of it.

But if that man was his only...did he really  _like_  men?  

Did he just not have a type at all?

"He sounds gorgeous," James commented, sucking in his cheeks to contour. When he was finished, he swiveled in his chair and faced Ethan. "Obviously, this is a sign. You need to find that man. He's your soul mate."

Ethan snorted. "I don't know about that."

"Well, I do." James opened a blush palette before turning back to Ethan, resigned. "I can't fucking believe this. I finally get a Dolan twin to admit they like cock, and he's a _bottom_. There can't be a God."

"Now who's being dramatic."

James finished applying his face products, switching to the eyes. "Well, hopefully we'll both find a man tonight. Although I don't have much hope for you in that outfit."

Ethan looked down at his clothes, offended. "What's wrong with my outfit?"

"Your man loves Miss Dolan, not Ethan. How is he supposed to find you if you're in jeans and a t-shirt?" James scoffed. "Please."

"James, it's a fantasy. It's not real. And even if it wasn't, I can't walk around in public in a fucking G-string."

" _Obviously_. What I mean is that you need to channel her. Get that attitude in place." James looked at himself in his mirror before glancing towards his closet. "I think we can find you something."

"Find me  _what_?" Ethan threw up his hands. "I regret campaigning for you to join us."

"Go look in my closet and find a dress. I don't have too many so it shouldn't be hard. Alright?"

"I'm not wearing a fucking  _dress_  in public, James. You may be able to get away with it, but I can't. Look, I really appreciate you supporting this whole thing, I really do, but it can only go so far." Ethan pulled out his phone. "Are you almost ready? I'll get us an Uber." 

"Fine. But don't come crying to me when your dream man walks right past you."

"Believe me, I won't."

\-----

"What the fuck is your problem?" Grayson hissed. 

"I don't have a problem. Get out of my face."

Daria and James had left the table to use the facilities, leaving Grayson and Ethan sitting across from each other outside at one of the more formal restaurants they patronized. Grayson clenched his jaw. "If you don't have a problem, then stop acting like an asshole."

"I've been perfectly normal the whole fucking time."

"No, you haven't. It was bad enough that you showed up looking like you'd thrown on something from your bedroom floor. Now, you've barely said anything, and if you looked any more bored while Daria was talking you'd be in a fucking coma." Grayson twisted his napkin in his hand, shaking his head. "You shouldn't have invited James. People already think you're dating. What do you think this looks like? How are you going to approach any girls with James up your ass all night?"

"So what if people think we're dating? And why do you care so much about me picking up girls? Mind your own fucking business." Ethan stood up and tossed his napkin on the table. "I'm going home."

"Like hell you are," Grayson shot back, grabbing hold of Ethan's wrist as he started for the door. The couple at the table next to them looked over in curiosity, and Grayson nodded at them before releasing Ethan and standing up.

"Look, are you dating James? Is this what this has been all about?" Grayson said lowly.

"No, I'm not," Ethan replied tersely. "He's my friend. More of a fucking friend than you've been lately, in fact."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Grayson asked. He was so close to Ethan that their chests were almost pressed together, his eyes burning. "What, because I'm not around all the time like I used to be? I have a girlfriend now, E. A life apart from you. And that's what you need too."

"You have no idea what I need," Ethan spat. He opened his mouth to continue, but Daria and James were approaching their table warily.

"Everything okay?" Daria asked tentatively. 

"Yeah, it's fine," Ethan said. He stepped back and put space between them. "Just fine."

Grayson put his arm around Daria and kissed her forehead. "We paid the bill. You ready to go?"

"I think so. You guys?" Daria asked, nodding towards James and Ethan. "I was thinking that we could go get milkshakes or something. It's still too early to head to the club. The show doesn't start until 11:30."

"That sounds great," James replied, and Ethan could tell he was uneasy with the tension between himself and Grayson.

"Maybe you should go home and change, since we have time." Grayson suggested to Ethan. "You never know who you'll meet, and it's important to make a good first impression."

Grayson's tone was innocent, but Ethan could feel the judgment pouring out of him in waves. Daria looked at Grayson in confusion, and James frowned, despite having told Ethan basically the same thing a few hours earlier.

"Maybe I will," Ethan said calmly, his rage carefully controlled. He turned to James. "Do you want to come with me back to the house? I think you had some suggestions about what I should wear tonight."

Ethan knew right away that James had heard him, loud and clear. James smiled wide. "I'd be delighted."

"Good." Ethan nodded towards Grayson. "We'll meet you at the club, later."

James followed Ethan out of the restaurant, out to the curb. "What a dick."

Ethan hailed a cab, not giving one fuck that it was triple the price of an Uber. Grayson would just have to buy Daria one less bouquet of flowers this week, the fuck. 

"Do you still like Grayson better?" Ethan asked, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

"Not a chance, Miss Dolan."


	5. Chapter 5

"Stop fidgeting," James scolded. "It's annoying."

They were in the back of an Uber on their way to the club, and Ethan was five seconds away from puking right into the complimentary basket of snacks.

James patted Ethan's thigh. "I know you're nervous, but you look great. Even better than I do."

"Wow, high praise," Ethan said, but it came out weaker than he'd intended. 

They'd stopped by James' house before running back to Ethan's. James had picked out a sinfully short, skin tight black dress that revealed Ethan's shoulders, but had long sleeves to cover the bulk of his biceps.

"Look at my shoulders, they're huge," Ethan complained. "This is going to be a 'fuck you, Ethan' moment instead of the 'fuck you, Grayson' moment this was meant to be."

"You're damn right it's going to be a 'fuck you, Ethan' moment. Do you have any idea how amazing your ass looks in this? No one's going to give a fuck about your shoulders."

"I'm touched you noticed. Every day has been ass day in the gym, lately." Ethan smirked, turning and looking at himself in the mirror.

Once they'd gotten back to Ethan's, any remaining doubts he'd had were gone. Grayson didn't know what was best for him - only  _he_  knew that. And no matter what excuse he gave later, the real reason for Miss Dolan's coming out was to show Grayson just how capable he was of living his own fucking life.

Corset, panties, garter belt, stockings. A pair of killer thigh high boots he'd stolen from James. The dress. The wig and those hoops. And a bold red lip.

"I think Miss Dolan could turn me straight," James said, looking at Ethan in wonder. "You're stunning."

Ethan's phone buzzed, and he winked. "Uber's here."

The closer they got to the club, the less confident Ethan became. He hadn't spent a year cultivating Miss Dolan's special sensuality just to waste it on stupid revenge. If he made a scene, he'd be the butt of the joke. But if he played it cool and made Grayson have the blow up, it would be on him.

When they pulled up in front of the club, the line to the door was already long. Ethan let James pay, choosing to take his time exiting the car. He almost felt faint, he was so nervous. 

Fortunately, James came around his side and linked his arm through Ethan's. "Let's go."

If anyone thought Ethan was out of place, they showed no indication of it. They joined the end of the line behind a group of girls about their age.

"I wish we'd gotten on the list," James groaned. "I hate lines."

"I like them tonight. I need time to prepare."

"Speaking of, where are they?" James asked. 

"Already inside. Gray texted me two minutes ago." Ethan looked around. "I hope we don't see any fans."

"I think you're making some new ones," James observed, nodding to an Uber driver who was leaning against his car, smoking a cigarette, his eyes glued to Ethan's ass. 

"Jesus," Ethan muttered. The guy in his fantasy definitely wasn't a short, pudgy Middle Eastern man with a toupee.

By the time they made it to the front of the line, Ethan felt like he was going to implode. It was too much. 

"ID." The bouncer looked at Ethan expectedly, and he fumbled through the small clutch James had loaned him for his driver's license.

Ethan held his head high as the bouncer looked back and forth between him and his ID. His colleague glanced over after looking at James' and did the same thing, and the two of them looked at Ethan for several seconds, their brows furrowed.

"Is there a problem?" Ethan asked, pitching his voice ridiculously lower and raising an eyebrow. James snorted, and Ethan took his ID back from the first bouncer triumphantly when he offered it. 

The men waved them inside after stamping their hands and taking their money, and Ethan felt like he'd just completed one of Hercules' tasks. 

Unfortunately, the second task was even worse.

"They're by the bar on the second level," Ethan shouted, already overwhelmed by the heat and noise. People were packed in the space so tight that it took them nearly ten minutes to wade through to the stairs, and then another five to make it to the end of the bar.

James was ahead of him, parting the crowd, and Ethan held on to his hand for dear life. 

He told himself it was because he wasn't used to the heels.

Ethan felt James squeeze his hand, and he scanned the space in front of them. He could see Daria leaning against the railing, looking down at the stage, but he didn't see Grayson. 

His heart was beating so fast he was afraid it would burst. His stomach churned, and his hands shook. He was two seconds from bailing before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

And ran straight into Grayson.

"Sorry," Grayson muttered, barely giving Ethan a glance. He turned when James grabbed his arm with the hand not attached to Ethan's, and smiled at James before following the line of their connected hands up to Ethan's face.

Ethan saw, in perfect detail, the half second moment of confusion before the shock of realization hit. He smiled slightly, bracing himself for the impending blow out, but not backing down either.

He released James' hand and got close enough to Grayson so that he could speak directly into his ear. He expected Grayson to move away from him in repulsion, but it seemed like Grayson was physically incapable of moving anything but his eyeballs.

Ethan put his hand on Grayson's chest for balance and leaned forward, the side of their bodies pressed together. "I hope you like my outfit change," Ethan said, his voice dripping with sweetness. "I see you changed your shirt, too. Didn't I ever tell you not to wear a white shirt to a club? Easier to get dirty."

Ethan backed off, smoothing out the wrinkles he'd left in Grayson's button down. "The pants are fine I guess, if a little cheesy. Someone named Gray should never wear gray."

He wasn't entirely sure Grayson had heard the last part, but it didn't matter, because Grayson seemed unable to respond  _anything_  he'd said. 

"Words are hard, I know," Ethan said, patting Grayson's arm. He followed James toward Daria, leaving Grayson struck dumb in the middle of a sea of people. 

By the time Grayson had made his way back to them, Daria had already complimented every item of clothing on Ethan's body with abundant enthusiasm. She grabbed Gray's bicep, shaking it in excitement. "Can you believe how good Ethan looks? Doesn't he look amazing?"

She was close enough for Grayson to hear her, but Grayson had not regained the use of speech. He blinked, and then nodded, copying Daria's movements like he was an infant. She tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, and Ethan could tell she was wondering what the hell was wrong with her boyfriend.

"You got him  _good_ ," James said, leaning over to talk in Ethan's ear. "He is fucked. Up."

"I knew he would be shocked, but I didn't think it would be like  _this_. I mean, we've worn make-up before. And putting on a dress isn't exactly outside the realm of something we would do for a video."

James shook his head. "He's like this because you look so  _good_. It's easy to laugh at a joke, to brush it off as no big deal. But you are anything but a joke tonight, honey."

Before Ethan could respond, he could hear the band starting up on the stage below. He squished against the railing in between James and Daria, and soon, he was just another 18 year old kid enjoying a concert- not a twin in expensive lingerie and a wig.

\----

By the time the concert was over, Ethan barely had a voice left- but he was happier than he'd been in ages. It was a special experience, being with hordes of your peers, all screaming along to the same lyrics. Dancing, touching, breathing the same air.

A lot of the younger crowd had cleared out after the concert, but the reprieve was brief. Once the DJ took over, hordes of young people able to drink replaced them, already smashed from the evening's earlier bar crawls.

Ethan couldn't speak loud enough to be heard over the music, so he grabbed James hand and nodded towards the stairs. James took his hand, and Daria and Grayson followed behind, wincing as elbows connected with various body parts and alcohol spilled on them left and right.

They all breathed a sigh of relief when they finally made it outside. Ethan had almost forgotten that he was in his outfit until he made eye contact with Grayson. 

It was a strange expression that Grayson had. It wasn't disgust, or even disapproval, like he had feared. It was surprise, certainly, but something else too. He couldn't describe it.

"I must look horrible," Ethan said to James. His voice was raspy, almost nonexistent, and he put his hand to his throat. "I sound horrible."

"You still look great, sweetie. You just need to touch up your lips." James swatted Ethan's hand as he started to dig in the clutch. "Not in public. In the restroom."

Daria looked at her phone. "It's already 2:30. I'm wiped out, and I have to be at work in seven and a half hours. I think I'm done for the night."

She kissed Grayson and fixed the collar on his shirt. "I'd invite you, but I really need to sleep. Call you tomorrow?"

Grayson nodded, and she smiled at him before turning to James. "Are you done for the night? Want to share an Uber?"

"Sounds great." James gave Grayson a quick hug before pulling Ethan into a longer embrace. 

"Use this blotting papers I gave you to get some of the moisture of your face. And don't forget the lips," James murmured. 

"I think by the time I get home, I'll be ready to take this shit off," Ethan replied. "Thanks for everything."

"Call me." James winked and joined Daria, and the twins watched as they got into a black SUV and drove off.

"Let's go home," Ethan said - well, whispered - eventually. "I think the spectacle is over for this evening."

They found a sporty Honda who was willing to take them, and they climbed into the backseat.

"Where to?" The driver asked, looking at them in the rearview mirror.

Ethan gestured to his throat and then to the driver. Grayson managed to connect the dots, and gave the driver their address. Grayson's voice sounded strange to Ethan after not hearing it all evening, absurdly deep. What was with the acoustics in this car?

They sat in silence as they made their way home. Ethan was no longer worried about Grayson's reaction. Even if he lost it once they got home, it didn't matter. Ethan had made his point, and he didn't really care what Grayson had to say about it.

...did he?


	6. Chapter 6

"He didn't say  _anything_?" 

"Not a fucking thing," Ethan replied. "We got home, and he went straight to his room. When I woke up, he was gone. The only reason I know he isn't dead is because I saw him on Daria's Snapchat last night. He hasn't returned any of my texts."

James rolled on to his side on his lounge chair so he was facing Ethan. "You didn't apologize, did you? Because you didn't do anything wrong. If anything, you improved the aesthetic of our group 1000% by looking so gorgeous."

"For someone who is generally a huge bitch, you can be very supportive," Ethan said, turning to grin at James. James flipped him off. "No, I didn't apologize. I just said I didn't appreciate him disappearing without telling me. I didn't bring up the club at all."

"Out of all the reactions I had envisioned, silence was not one of them," James commented. "Pissed off, yes. Furious, yes. Amused or entertained, even- yes. But this is very interesting."

Ethan sighed. "I hope he isn't just building up to something. Although I'm generally the one to dwell on shit until it gets out of hand. This is off-brand for him."

"Well, don't worry about it now. There's nothing you can do. He's a big boy." James rolled onto his back and took a sip of his drink. "Now, shut up. It's a gorgeous day, I'm in the shade by the pool with a Dolan twin, and I'd like to relax in peace."

"You can't tell me to shut up at my own house."

"Watch me, bitch."

****

Ethan knew James was right- there was nothing he could do, and he should stop thinking about it- but when Monday night rolled around and Grayson still hadn't come home, he started to get worried.

**When are u coming home? Idc what time, just as long as you are here to post tomorrow.**

Ethan sent the text and flopped back onto his bed. What the actual fuck was Grayson's problem? As far as Grayson knew, this was all a joke. Just Ethan playing a prank. This reaction was really a bit over the top, not to mention totally out of character.

He felt tendrils of anger start to build in his gut. Christ,  _Grayson_  was the one who had practically destroyed their relationship in the past couple of months by spending every waking moment with Daria.  _Grayson_  was the one who had alienated half their fanbase by going public with a girlfriend, something they had vowed not to do until things got super serious. And he was passing judgment on  _Ethan_? Silence wasn't necessarily disapproval, but it wasn't approval either.

Ethan felt the same defiance he'd felt at the restaurant surge in him. Well, fuck that guy. He'd give him something to  _really_  pass judgment on.

He hopped out of bed and threw open his closet, digging in the back for his new La Perla chemise. He pulled it reverently out of the tissue paper and laid it on his bed carefully, admiring the black lace and silk. 

He disrobed quickly, skipping underwear and sliding right into the chemise. It stopped at mid-thigh, and it was amazing how a flimsy piece of fabric could give the illusion of a more feminine figure. Even the neckline, which was more low-cut than he was used to, didn't emphasize his flat chest, or the straps his wider shoulders. It was like it was magic. The Sisterhood of the Traveling Nightie, or something.

He put on a long, sheer black robe with lace trim and swept into the bathroom, donning the same hair, make-up, and jewelry from Saturday night. He felt even more powerful than he usually did, because now the whole thing was a big "fuck you" to Grayson on top of everything else. He stepped into his black heels and imagined pressing one onto Grayson's throat.

The asshole.

He went into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of red wine, turned on the stereo, and retreated to one of the lounge chairs by the pool. The lights they'd strung up around the backyard were twinkling softly, and there was a pleasant breeze rustling the trees. It was a perfect night, and Ethan damn well wasn't going to let Grayson ruin it- especially when he wasn't even there.

It was when the fifth Mariah Carey song in a row came on that Ethan realized that James must have been the last one to select the Spotify playlist coming through the stereo. He polished off his glass and held up the remote to the stereo, about to turn it off until he could put on a different artist, when the song got to the chorus.

 _Dream lover come rescue me_  
_Take me up take me down_  
 _Take me anywhere you want to baby now_  
 _I need you so desperately_  
 _Won't you please come around_  
 _'Cause I wanna share forever with you baby_

"Big mood, Mariah," he said out loud, tossing the remote onto the other lounge chair. Ethan sighed and looked out towards the city, suddenly feeling more sad than anything. 

He was used to Grayson's unconditional love, no matter how weird he was. For the first time, he felt like he was pushing Grayson's limits- and it had only been a joke. A prank.

What would Grayson think if he knew it was a real part of who he was?

He leaned back and closed his eyes. He had forgotten how sleepy wine made him.

He tried to push any anxiety about Grayson out of his mind. This was  _his_  time. And the only person he wanted to spend it with was the man in the armchair. 

Hey, it wasn't ideal, but it was as close to a dream lover as he was going to get.

***

_He looked up when she entered his study. He couldn't help but smile- she was just that lovely. "I thought you'd be asleep by now."_

_She sauntered towards his chair, her eyes twinkling. "I couldn't sleep."_

_"Oh," he said, his eyes traveling from her red lips, down an expanse of black silk, to the thighs exposed by her short nightgown. He took a sip of his drink, savoring it slowly. "That's too bad."_

_"Mmm," she agreed. "Especially since it's your fault."_

_"My fault?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow. "I just got here."_

_"Yes, that's the problem," she said. She put on her best pout, the one that made him putty in the palm of her hand. "You know I can't sleep alone."_

_He set aside his drink and took her hand, pulling her down into his lap. "I'm sorry. I hate working late, but it was unavoidable. We had a deadline."_

_She sighed dramatically and wrapped her arms around his neck. "It's okay. I forgive you."_

_He put a hand on her thigh, sliding up until he could thumb the edge of her panties. "You're so good to me."_

_"I know," she replied breezily, and he chuckled._

_He slid his hand further under her gown to grip her hip, tugging her into a different position so that she was straddling his thighs. He pulled her down for a kiss, his stubble rough against her cheek, whiskey still on his breath. He kissed her slowly, taking his time, sliding his hands under her panties to palm her ass. She rocked slowly against him until she could feel him hard underneath her, and her hands roamed to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with practiced ease._

_"I'm sorry again for being late," he said lowly when he broke their kiss. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and pulled it off, tossing it onto the floor. His nails dug into her hips and he looked up at her hungrily. "Can I make it up to you?"_

_"I don't know, can you?" she asked cheekily._

_"Got a smart mouth on you, don't you, Miss Dolan?" he growled. In one fluid motion he gripped the backs of her thighs and stood up, and she gasped in surprise, holding on tighter. He carried her like she weighed nothing, striding to the bedroom purposefully before tossing her on the bed._

_"Are you still going to call me Miss Dolan when we're married?" she asked breathlessly._ _  
_

_His eyes flicked to the diamond on her finger before he grinned and started undoing his belt buckle. "Only if you're nasty."_

***

Ethan woke up with a start, his eyes blinking open rapidly. It was just starting to get light outside.

Jesus, when the fuck had he fallen asleep? One minute he'd been fantasizing about getting fucked on high quality Egyptian cotton, and the next...well, here he was.

Was Mariah Carey  _still_  on the stereo?

He shut her off and grabbed his wine glass, getting up so fast it made his head spin. He glided toward the house, a strange sense of urgency overtaking him, when he realized exactly why that was.

It must have been Grayson slamming his car door that had woken him up. Because there he was, frozen, on the other side of the sliding glass door. 

_Fuck._


	7. Chapter 7

Ethan had never been very good at coming up with excuses. He wasn't sure why, considering he'd gotten in trouble so much as a kid and should have had plenty of practice. But when an adult gave him the eye, crossed their arms, their lips pursed, and said, "Well, Ethan?"...he drew a blank. Every time.

He realized, standing there, his hands shaking and his heart pounding, that he sucked at making excuses because he had never had one. There had been no good excuse for why Cameron's stuffed animals had been beheaded and tossed out onto the lawn. There had been no good excuse for why Grayson's brand new sneakers had suddenly turned the same neon yellow of a highlighter. And there was no good excuse for this.

Except this time, he knew he hadn't done anything wrong. Even if he suddenly developed stellar improvisational skills in the next ten seconds, he couldn't turn this into a joke. He didn't  _want_  it to be a joke. And he didn't need an excuse.

The thing that Ethan loved most about being Miss Dolan was her power. So why didn't she actually wield it for once?

Ethan squared his shoulders and slid the door open. 

"About time you came home," he said nonchalantly. He brushed past Grayson and strode purposefully to his room, hoping to God that Grayson wouldn't follow him.

Except he did. He  _always_  did.

"What the fuck is going on?" 

Grayson was standing in the threshold of Ethan's bedroom, seemingly hesitant to go any further inside lest he also become a lingerie-wearing fetishist. His voice sounded strange, and his expression was stranger, like he couldn't decide which emotion he should be feeling. 

"I was actually going to ask you that," Ethan replied casually. His heart was pounding, waiting for Grayson to freak out. Explode. He tried to keep his hands steady as he took the hoops out of his ears. "You're the one who disappeared for two days."

"Yeah, well..." Grayson's voice rose and then fell, drifting off into a shake of the head. Grayson ran a hand through his hair and swallowed roughly. "Just...what's going on with you?"

"Nothing," Ethan answered simply. "Those lounge chairs are hell on my back though."

Ethan kicked off his shoes and pushed them towards the closet. So far he had been able to feign easy confidence, but he wouldn't last long with Grayson staring at him. 

Ethan took off the rest of his jewelry, avoiding eye contact with Grayson. But when he was still standing silently in the threshold after he'd taken off the press-on nails, he couldn't help but say something. Anything to get him out, so Ethan could process all of this shit.

"Look, do you need something? Or do you just enjoy creeping in people's fucking doorways?"

 Grayson's jaw clenched, and his eyes flicked around the room before he finally took  a couple of steps inside. "I need you to tell me what the fuck is going on."

"I told you, nothing," Ethan replied tersely. "It's early in the morning, and I'm tired. I'd like to get a few more hours of sleep."

Ethan tried to escape to the bathroom, but Grayson grabbed his wrist, spinning him around so they were face to face. Ethan tried to shake him off, his anxiety skyrocketing as he felt Grayson's grip tighten. Grayson's eyes were burning, his gaze so intense that Ethan felt like he was going to melt.

"Answer me, Ethan. No more bullshit. You know exactly what the fuck I'm talking about."

Ethan lifted his chin, trying to maintain the dignity he was quickly losing. "It's none of your fucking business."

He gasped as Grayson squeezed his wrist even tighter, his nails digging into his skin. He tried once more to escape, but Grayson grabbed the bicep of his other arm, holding him fast. He looked murderous, his face centimeters from Ethan's.

For the first time in his life, Ethan felt  _afraid_  of Grayson.

"It's none of my business when my brother shows up in public in a fucking dress? It's none of my business when I come home and he's in  _lingerie_?  _Make-up_?" Grayson's voice was so low that Ethan could barely hear him, but it was dripping with judgment. "You're wrong. It is my business. So you better tell me what the fuck is going on, or..."

"Or what?" Ethan prompted. He tried to keep his voice steady, but the question still came out shaky. Terror was growing inside him. Grayson had never looked at him like this. He was almost unrecognizable. It felt like Grayson was a stranger, like the actual Grayson had died and this was an imposter. Ethan's worst fear, a thousand times worse than this secret being discovered. "You're going to kick me out? Beat the shit out of me? Disown me?"

Ethan braced himself for whatever was going to come next, words or actions that would cut him equally deep. But all he felt was Grayson release his hold, his wrist bruised where Grayson had gripped him.

"Jesus..." Grayson fell back onto Ethan's bed, sitting on the edge and putting his head in his hands. Ethan rubbed his wrist, and for the first time in years, he felt like he wanted to cry.

When Grayson looked up again, everything was different. Remorse and bewilderment had replaced every other emotion he'd had before. He wasn't violent any more. He looked defeated.

"This isn't a joke." Ethan knew Grayson had meant it as more of a question, but it came out as a statement. Like he already knew the answer.

"No." Ethan wanted to be angry, furious at Grayson for treating him like he had. But the only thing he could feel was the throbbing of his wrist.

"Not even the club." Grayson looked at him, almost imploringly. 

Did he want to explain? That it was petty revenge, for Grayson's comments at the restaurant? 

Could he even say that was the truth anymore?

"No." Because while it had been payback, it hadn't been a joke. And Ethan had felt...good. Too good for it to be fake.

"Jesus," Grayson breathed. He looked up at the ceiling, and then back to Ethan. "So...what does this mean? Are...are you..." Grayson drifted off, lost.

Ethan pulled off his wig and tossed it onto the bed. He was exhausted now. Disappointed. "I'm Ethan." 

Grayson's eyes traveled from Ethan's made-up face down to his smooth thighs, incredulous, like he hadn't been looking at the same person for the last ten minutes. "So you aren't..."

"No." Ethan shrugged off the robe and hung it in his closet.

"And...and you aren't...and James..."

Ethan laughed humorlessly. "Grayson, just stop. I've thought of every possible question you could ask, and they're all fucking stupid."

Ethan pulled off his eyelashes. "James didn't brainwash me. I'm not becoming a woman. I'm not being blackmailed. I am the same fucking guy I've always been, except that I occasionally like to...dress up. And I have been, for the past year."

"The past  _year_?" Grayson repeated, his eyes wide. "How did...but James..."

"How did you not know? Well, turns out you miss a lot of stuff when you're up your girlfriend's ass 24/7. And James hasn't known the whole time, but I sure as hell felt more comfortable telling him than you. Case in point." Ethan held up his wrist so Grayson could see the bruises already forming.

Grayson looked wrecked, like  _he_  was the one about to cry. "I'm sorry. I..." He ran a hand over his face. "I don't know what to say."

"How about you explain why you disappeared for two days? Ignored me?" Ethan decided he didn't want to wait for an answer and went into the bathroom. Grayson followed him.

"When you were at the club...like you were...it really fucked me up." 

Ethan started removing his make-up, keeping his eyes focused on himself instead of Grayson. "Yeah. I could tell."

"Look...I'm not..." Grayson sighed in frustration, trying to find the right words. "I don't care about...about the clothes, or the make-up. You can do whatever the fuck you want and I'll support you. It was just...when I saw you, it was like you were a totally different person. Not like when James puts make-up on us or the other dumb shit we do for videos. You were my brother, but...but also you weren't. At all."

Ethan didn't say anything. Grayson leaned against the counter, his eyes drawn to the strap that had fallen down Ethan's shoulder. "It was so fucking surreal. I can't explain it. And after, I was mad...not because I was afraid someone would see you and recognize you- although that's what I thought at first- but because James knew something about you that I didn't. You had something with him that you didn't have with me."

Grayson  shook his head. "I think I'm the one that's turning into a woman."

Ethan tossed his wipes in the garbage and finally looked at Grayson. "You're the one who said we should have lives apart from each other. Well, this is something that I never intended to share with you."

Ethan left the bathroom and went to the closet, hesitating before pulling off the chemise. "You can't spend every waking moment with Daria, living your 'separate life,' but then expect me to tell you every fucking thing I do."

Grayson scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to avert his eyes from Ethan's naked body but also obviously curious about the changes- mostly about the noticeable the lack of hair. "Yeah...I guess you're right."

Ethan pulled on a pair of pajama pants and held up his hands in question. "So...are we good? Is the heart-to-heart over?"

"Well...I have some more questions, actually.."

"I don't give a single fuck," Ethan replied. He got into his bed and crawled under the covers. "I'm going to sleep."

"Okay." Grayson's mouth quirked in a half-smile before he quickly sobered. "I'm sorry...for whatever I did to make you think you couldn't tell me about this."

"I'm sorry that I wasted precious moments of my life agonizing about you finding out. You're the one with the fragile masculinity, not me."

"I do not have fragile masculinity," Grayson retorted.

"Yeah, okay, Schwarzenegger," Ethan said, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, James only knows because I need someone to go to Barney's and pick things up for me. In an ideal world, only one person would have known about this and it wouldn't have been James."

Ethan's eyes widened slightly when he realized what he'd said. Grayson didn't need to know about his panty collection, but he really didn't need to know about the man in the armchair.

Dumb brain.

He rolled over so his back was facing Grayson, hoping he'd take the hint. "Good night."

"Who would have known?" Grayson asked, his interest piqued.

"Gizmo. Now shut the fuck up and leave."

"Fine." Grayson made it to the threshold before he turned again. "Hey, Ethan...is...is it a sex thing?"

Ethan ignored him.


	8. Chapter 8

"I hate you." Ethan gingerly sat down on James' couch, grimacing. "I really, really hate you."

"Stop being such a fucking baby. It's not like I held you down and poured the wax on you," James huffed. A few seconds later, his eyes got a bit cloudy. "Actually, that's not a bad idea..."

"James," Ethan warned, and James shook himself out of his reverie.

"Did you think one wax was going to last you forever? Hair grows back, idiot."

"I didn't think it would last forever, but I thought it would last longer than this," Ethan pouted.

"It's been, like, a month," James said, rolling his eyes. "And honestly, you should have gone sooner. You're a hairy motherfucker, you know that?"

James licked his thumb and smoothed one of Ethan's eyebrows, and Ethan swatted his hand away in disgust. "Yes, I'm aware, thanks."

"In any case, here's your contraband," James said, grabbing a bag off the coffee table. "And no, I didn't change out the bag. I didn't think it was necessary now that brother dearest is in on the whole thing."

"Speaking of Grayson, did I tell you he's been home a lot more lately? I think he wants to make sure I don't pick up any more interesting...hobbies, while he's out," Ethan said, grinning. He dug through the tissue paper in the bag and pulled out his latest purchase. He thumbed the fabric, admiring the softness. "Silk is so worth the money."

Ethan held it up for James to see. It was a simple, white silk slip with some lace details. Just what he'd been looking for. James, however, looked unimpressed.

"Are you getting married?" James asked. He scrunched up his nose. "That looks like something you'd get fucked in on your honeymoon."

"I just wanted something understated," Ethan explained, although the slight blush on his cheeks said otherwise.

"Oh my God," James exclaimed. "You have a new  _thing_ , don't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ethan replied weakly.

"What would you even call it? A marriage fetish? Bridal kink?" James snorted, and Ethan hated him for looking so fucking delighted. "This explains the ring we got last week."

"Shut up," Ethan mumbled. Could he not have  _one_  secret for himself?

"Oh, honey, I think it's wonderful- I'm just surprised. I mean, you've always been  _Miss_  Dolan, not Mrs. Dolan."

"It would  _never_  be Mrs. Dolan. I wouldn't be married to myself, would I? Dumb ass." Ethan shook his head, folding the slip carefully and putting it back in the bag. 

"There are other Dolans,  _dumbass_ ," James retorted. "Like Grayson, for instance."

"Christ, the kid is still reeling from the fact that his brother wears panties. Now he has to marry me, too?" Ethan pointed an accusatory finger at James. "You've been reading too much fanfiction."

James shrugged. "Grethan is real."

"It's sick.  _You're_  sick."

"Hey, you have your kinks, I have mine," James said flippantly.

"Well, I'm taking my kinks and my slip and going home, away from your incest-loving ass." Ethan grabbed his bag, pulling James in for a hug. "Thanks for picking this up for me."

"My pleasure. Hey, any more leads on the man in the arm chair?" James pulled away and grinned. "In my head, he looks like that guy from  _Mad Men_."

"Nah. I think he has dark hair. Maybe. It's still fuzzy." Ethan shrugged. "Maybe I should invest in a crystal ball."

"You can pick that up yourself, right? I'm tired of shopping for you."

\----------------------

In the weeks since Grayson had found out about Miss Dolan (or, her clothes anyway) he had been spending more time at home. Unfortunately, instead of more quality bonding time, it ended up being a constant scare-the-shit-out-of-Ethan party.

"Jesus fuck," Ethan gasped, coming out of the bathroom to see Grayson right outside the door. He clutched his chest. "Make some fucking noise or something. This is the third time you've snuck up on me this week."

"Sorry," Grayson said sheepishly.

The more it happened, the more it become apparent that Grayson was  _watching_  him. Like he was trying to catch Ethan unawares, catch him in the act. 

It wasn't too hard to figure out what the "act" was.

"You don't have to keep walking on eggshells around me, you know," Ethan said one evening. They'd just finished filming a video and they were in their floaties in the pool. 

"I haven't been walking on eggshells. Things are great." It was almost convincing.

"Yeah, okay," Ethan said skeptically. "Look, I'm not gonna  _surprise_  you with any interesting outfits. I told you this is a personal thing, and I mean it. And since we have our 'text when you're on your way home' system now in place, we shouldn't have any repeats of the other time."

Grayson seemed to visibly relax. "Okay."

Things got better after that. In fact, things were almost back to normal. Pre-Miss Dolan normal, even.

 Ethan could tell Grayson was still curious about Miss Dolan, but he didn't have the balls to ask any questions and Ethan sure as hell wasn't going to volunteer anything. The last thing he needed was for Grayson to know about his bridal-related fantasies.

But while things were getting better between Ethan and Grayson, things were not going well for Grayson and Daria.

"We had a fight," Grayson said glumly when he came home one evening about a month later. He flopped down on a kitchen stool and groaned. "I love our fans, but I also hate them. With a passion."

"You and Daria had a fight about our fans?" 

Grayson nodded miserably. "Yeah. You know how some of them are. The crazy jealous ones. They've always given Daria shit, but I guess the hate comments on social media are really bothering her now. I told her to ignore them and block them, but she says that it's too hard. Too hard to deal with the shit that comes with dating me."

Ethan hummed sympathetically. "The shit that comes with dating someone  _like_  you, Gray. She'd have a hard time dating anyone with a large following. Don't take it personally."

"Well, it's hard not to take it personally. I mean...if she really loved me, she'd think being with me was worth dealing with the shit, right?" Grayson sighed. "I don't know. I don't think she is as happy with our relationship as she used to be."

"She's just frustrated with the fans. Don't stress about it," Ethan reassured him.

"It isn't just the thing with the fans though. She's been busier at work, and I've been home more, and we don't see each other as much. And I don't think she really cares about that. She doesn't make as much of an effort anymore." Grayson pouted pathetically. "And she doesn't reply to my Snapchats."

"Yeah, I hear that's ruining a lot of relationships right now," Ethan said drily. "Look, Gray, just talk to her. Tell her the stuff you told me. But try to reign in your douchebag and not get into a fight."

Grayson picked at the edge of the counter. "Maybe."

"Do you want to be with her or not? If you want her to make an effort, you have to make an effort too, you know?"

"Yeah...I guess..." Grayson mumbled.

"You guess you have to make an effort, or you guess you want to be with her?" Ethan asked. He raised an eyebrow. "Because if you don't really want to be with her, then you're getting worked up over nothing. Time to move on."

"I mean...yeah, of course...of course I do..." A strange expression crossed Grayson's face, one that Ethan couldn't quite decipher.

"Looks like you have some thinking to do, buddy," Ethan said, clapping Grayson on the shoulder. 

Grayson watched Ethan leave the kitchen, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that Ethan's legs were once again hairless. 

"No fucking kidding," he muttered to himself.


	9. Chapter 9

Ethan liked to go running in the evening, right at dusk. That night, it was cool and the sky was a lovely purple-orange, and even the smog couldn't ruin the sunset. 

He ran harder, his feet pounding against the pavement and his heart beating fast, and it was awful and amazing at the same time. This hill was hell, but the view at the top was worth it. It was the highest point in the neighborhood, and the owners of the house at the apex had thoughtfully put some benches and a gazebo on a small grassy area for others to enjoy it.

Ethan had spent many evenings in that gazebo, getting bitten by mosquitoes and thinking until his head ached. He'd never gone there with Grayson- it was his place, some place where he was just a man. Not a Youtuber, not a celebrity- not even a twin. It had taken more depressive episodes than he would have liked to realize how important a space like this was to him.

He had a lot of thinking to do tonight. Grayson was itching to branch out, wanting them to go on more auditions and meet more people in the industry. It wasn't that Ethan didn't want their careers to grow- he did, of course- but he was happy as they were. They made plenty of money, and they had fun. Their life was relatively free of stress. Why fuck it up?

But what was the alternative? If they stayed as they were, Grayson would be resentful. Eventually, he would leave and go off on his own. And as much as Ethan liked to give Grayson shit about not being able to run a camera or make a video, he was sort of integral to the thing they had going on. 

He could do something new, by himself. But did he want to? 

Ethan stopped at the top of the hill and put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He'd noticed a limousine parked on the side of the road, and when he finally looked up, he figured out to whom it belonged. 

The gazebo was strung with lights, and it looked magical against the backdrop of the darkening trees behind it. A woman in a long white gown holding a bouquet of hydrangeas was looking up at a man in a dark suit, her smile so wide that Ethan could see her teeth gleaming from thirty yards away. 

A bride.

A man with a camera was taking photos and giving instruction, and Ethan watched in rapt fascination as the couple danced slowly, embraced, kissed. 

Eventually, Ethan turned and started walking back towards the house.

James was right- he did have a bridal thing. It had confused even him when it had first presented itself, but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Wasn't it the raw femininity, the power she had, that made Miss Dolan so intoxicating? What was more feminine than a beautiful bride, what was true power but having a man devote himself to you- for  _life_?

"Honey, I understand this marriage thing you have," James said after Ethan had described the bride and groom in the gazebo the next day at lunch, "-but I think you're missing a few very important steps. Like...actually meeting someone. Becoming friends. Dating. You can't just wake up one day and be married. Believe me, I've tried."

Ethan picked at his salad glumly. "Meeting people is hard, and dating is even worse. Look at Grayson and Daria."

"Yeah, well, too fucking bad. You obviously want a relationship, and you're not going to get one sitting in your bedroom. Go to parties, go out to clubs. Put yourself out there. Unless you want to go the online dating route, that's the only way you're going to find someone." James sipped his drink thoughtfully. "I wonder if there's an app for lingerie-loving boys like yourself."

"Yeah, I'll pass," Ethan said, wrinkling his nose. 

"Then let's go out. Tomorrow night. I'll even go to a straight bar, just for you." James raised an eyebrow. "Unless Miss Dolan would rather go out instead. Who knows? The man in the armchair might skip the cigar and nightcap and be waiting for you at the end of the bar."

"I'm lucky that Grayson is handling things so well. I don't think I want to tempt fate by going out as Miss Dolan again."

James shrugged. "Suit yourself. But let me tell you, sweetheart, imagination cock is nowhere as good as the real thing."

******

After lunch, Ethan drove out to the coast. The best thing after gazebo thinking was driving thinking, and he listened to the same album a dozen times with the window open and salt air whipping through his hair. 

The thought of sleeping with a man was thrilling, and absolutely terrifying. It was ridiculous to use the faceless man in the armchair as a standard, but at the same time, any man was fair game since he  _was_  faceless. He didn't know what he was looking for, which meant he could be looking for anything.

God, he was a fucking mess. Didn't know what he wanted to do with his career. Didn't know who he wanted to fuck. Wasn't this shit ever going to get easier?

It was dark when he finally got home. He wasn't surprised to see Grayson's car in the driveway, since he'd mentioned that Daria had been wanting to use the pool. The two of them had seemed to patch things up, and while Ethan was happy that Gray was happy, he really didn't want Daria around all the time.

Ethan dropped his keys on the table by the door and walked through the house. The lights were on but Grayson wasn't in his room or the living room, so Ethan headed towards the pool.

He was in the middle of the kitchen, almost to the sliding glass door, when he heard a strange noise. He could tell it was coming from outside, but he couldn't see anything, even with the lights strung up around the fence. 

The glass door was open, and he stepped outside. His hand was inches away from the switch that would turn on the flood lights when he heard the noise again. 

This time, there was no mistaking what it was.

There were two shadowy figures by the edge of the pool, a woman's high-pitched keen interwoven with a man's grunts and growls. 

 _Jesus_.

Grayson was on his back, his knees bent, and Daria was riding him, her head thrown back, her arms leaning back against his thighs for support. Her pace was brisk but deliberate, and as she moved, moonlight would catch a highlight in her glossy black hair or illuminate the curve of her breast. 

Ethan felt a strange mixture of anger, revulsion, and arousal. While he'd heard stories about Grayson's sexual exploits, he'd never actually seen him engaging in the act. And while Daria had spent many a night at their house, Grayson was usually considerate enough to put on music so Ethan could remain blissfully unaware of their activities.

This was not the case now. Even from where he stood by the door, he could hear  _everything,_ like their naked bodies were hooked up to the stereo. Ethan was frozen in place, wanting desperately to leave, but held down by some invisible force.

Daria had an amazing body, tight and lean, large, full breasts. Grayson gripped one of her hips with one hand and cupped her breast reverently with the other, and although Ethan couldn't see his face, he could imagine it by the sounds he was making. They were deep, guttural, almost like they were coming from an animal. 

While Daria's theatrical moans grated on him, listening to Grayson was like having liquid pornography poured into his ears. It was restrained power, control willingly ceded, but ready to be unleashed at the right moment.

Like this one.

"So close," Daria whined, her voice wavering from her labored breathing. "Need it...harder..."

In a movement so fluid that Ethan could hardly believe it was his brother who had done it- the kid who tripped over his own shadow- Grayson had flipped their positions. Daria's hands gripped the towel beneath her, behind her head, and Grayson nearly folded her in half. That same moonlight caught the sweat rolling down Grayson's neck, the glean on his biceps, the flexing of his ass as he fucked her. 

"God, yes, baby, fuck!" Daria's back arched like she was a gymnast, and Grayson put one hand on the ground, holding himself up to get that leverage to go deep, so deep that Daria was coming in seconds, shaking and cursing.

Grayson slowed, lazily moving inside her while nuzzling her neck, her chest. Daria ran her hands through his hair, giggled softly, pulled him down so she could kiss him. Whisper to him.

Ethan felt like he wanted to vomit, wanted to scream, punch something, but he was also so hard that he couldn't believe there was still blood in his heart keeping him alive.

He finally turned and escaped to his room. He was furious, and he didn't know why. He felt shame and lust and  _sadness_  and he didn't know why. 

He turned on the shower and undressed, making it icy cold. 

What the fuck was wrong with him?

***

**_10:07am      I think I want to go out tonight_ **

_10:10am      Knew u would change ur mind. Ethan or Miss Dolan?_

_10:47am      Hello? Anyone there?_

_11:33am      Bitch if u don't answer me..._

Ethan turned his phone in his hands. He was feeling a hundred different emotions and he couldn't name any of them. All he knew was that he'd woken up determined. Determined to erase the images from last night from his mind, so they wouldn't keep playing over and over again. 

He needed a distraction. Other young celebrities fucked around all the time- why was he being such a fucking prude? He could go out, pick someone up, and fuck them in the back seat of the BMW. Clear his system.

He imagined finding a girl like Daria, thin and pretty and limber. The thought was comfortable, even exciting, but ultimately...

...he knew it wouldn't be enough. 

**_12:03      Miss Dolan._ **


	10. Chapter 10

There was a day in Dolan Family history that was spoken about in hushed voices and averted eyes, lest the gods once again be disturbed and unleash their evils upon them once again.

Ethan and Grayson had been eight years old, high on the drug that was summer vacation. They were in the woods by their house, semi-supervised by Cameron and their father, who were actually too busy trying to identify various trees and wildlife to actually do any supervising.

Always the daredevil, Ethan climbed a tree, scaling it higher and higher while Grayson watched from below. While Grayson wasn't a timid child by any means, his fear of heights eclipsed even his desire to outdo Ethan, and he bit his thumbnail nervously. 

"E, you're really high up," Grayson called. "I think you should come down."

"What? I can't hear you from all the way up here?" Ethan shouted back pompously, and Grayson was too anxious to even roll his eyes. 

"Come down!" Grayson called back, more urgently this time. "You're going to fall."

Ethan must have heard the sincere worry in Grayson's voice, because he stuck out his tongue but did start to make his way back down.

"You're such a baby," Ethan said when he was about fifteen feet above the ground. "I'm an expert tree climber. I'm not going to fa-"

Grayson heard the snap of bone before he'd even processed that Ethan was no longer on the tree. He stood, shocked, as Ethan laid still for several moments before clutching his leg, tears starting to stream down his face.

Their father had carried Ethan back to the house, and they spent the next few hours in the emergency room, their mother lecturing them (and their father) about being safe in the woods.

By the time they were ready to leave the emergency room, Ethan was back in good spirits. He was thrilled that he'd have to use crutches for the next several weeks, and was already an expert in using them inappropriately. 

"If I hold the crutch up like this, I look like a pirate with a peg arm!" Ethan said, poking Grayson in the butt with said apparatus. They were outside the hospital entrance, waiting for their parents.

"It's a peg  _leg_ , not a peg arm," Cameron pointed out. Ethan turned to address her, ready to argue, his crutch still raised.

Again, before Grayson could truly process what had happened, Cameron was in tears, clutching her forehead. Blood was streaming from a gash above her eyebrow, dripping down her nose and onto her t-shirt. 

"Sorry," Ethan said sheepishly, looking from his sister to the screw on his crutch that had gouged out his sister's face. 

"Well, at least we were already at the emergency room," their father said an hour later, watching the same doctor sew up Cameron's forehead. Their mother looked at him murderously, and he shrugged. 

By the time they had made it home, they were all exhausted. 

"I'm ordering pizza," their mother said. "Everyone just sit down and don't move. Alright?"

There was no argument from Ethan and Cameron, who were content to nurse their injuries and make Grayson serve them. Unsurprisingly, Grayson only tolerated this for so long before he retreated to his room, opting to ignore them completely. 

Grayson and his father shared one affinity that no one in the house could understand- anchovies. This had the pleasant result of always leaving them with one entire pizza- with anchovies- just for them.

They scarfed it down, leaving only a slice left, while the others watched in disgust. 

An hour later, when Ethan had been tucked into bed, Grayson entered his parents' bedroom, his hand on his stomach. "I don't feel good."

"Me neither, Bud," his father said. He helped Grayson onto the bed. "I think we ate too fast. Let's wait it out a bit, and if we still feel bad we can take some medicine."

Thirty minutes later, both Grayson and his father were puking their guts out, and they figured it had to be the anchovies.

Grayson looked up from the toilet bowl in agony, and his mother wiped his face with a wash cloth. 

"Are you crying, Mom?" Grayson asked. "I'll be okay. Don't worry."

"I know, honey," his mother said, sniffling. "It's just been a really long day."

Ethan had thought that the broken leg-stitches-food poisoning day could not be beat on the scale of "most shit happening in a twelve hour period." 

But if this day didn't beat it, it sure was a fucking tie.

***

Thirty minutes after Ethan had told James he'd go out as Miss Dolan, he was sitting in his chair in front of the computer, too busy worrying about how he'd explain everything to Gray to do any editing. As it turned out, editing was not going to be in the cards at all.

He was in the kitchen stress eating when Grayson Facetimed him. 

"Yo," Ethan began. His eyes widened when he saw Grayson's face and his heart started to beat five thousand times per second. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Daria broke up with me," Grayson explained tearfully. Ethan felt relief almost immediately, and just barely refrained from saying something like, " _Thank god, I thought something serious had happened_ ," before he caught himself.

Break-ups always hit Grayson hard. It had been understandable when they were younger, but he looked a little ridiculous now, as a 210-pound man with a beard sitting on the side of road crying over his iPhone. 

"Okay," Ethan said carefully. He felt... _overjoyed_ , thrilled even, tampered only slightly by Grayson's distress. He chose not to dwell on the first part and focused instead on the second. "Why don't you try and calm down, and we can talk about it when you get home?" 

"I want pancakes," Grayson sniffed, wiping his nose on his hand like a toddler. "Can you meet me at the diner?"

Ethan sighed. "Yeah, bud. I'll be there in a few."

Soon, Grayson was looking sorrowfully down at a very large stack of pancakes and two milkshakes. "She said that she couldn't do it anymore. I said that maybe we could take a break, but she doesn't think it will ever get better."

"You guys seemed like you were alright again," Ethan replied, the " _when you were fucking her in front of me by the pool_ " going unsaid. "What do you think happened?"

"I asked her if it was a fan thing again- she said that was part of it. But she said that she just wasn't into it anymore." Grayson poked at his pancakes with his fork, and Ethan, again, almost added, " _she looked pretty into it when you were fucking her by the pool._ "  

Grayson's eyes started to water again. "She said that she had given it another shot the past couple of weeks, but now she'd made up her mind. We're done. For good."

At Grayson's words, Ethan again felt a strange thrill- followed by a healthy dose of guilt. He had never really  _liked_  Daria, but overall she hadn't treated Grayson badly or made any trouble for them. Grayson was upset, and  _he_  should be upset to see Grayson upset. And he was- to a point. A very small point.

"I'm sorry, Gray." Ethan patted Grayson's hand sympathetically. "I know this sucks, but it will get better."

"No it won't," Grayson mumbled. Ethan raised an eyebrow, ready to admonish Grayson for being so dramatic, but Grayson held up his hand. "I mean, I know this will get better- this Daria thing. But think about it. I've been dumped by every girl I've ever dated. This  _always_  happens. No matter what I do."

Ethan hadn't realized it until that moment, but Gray was right. He thought back over the years, of all of Grayson's serious girlfriends. They'd all been the ones to end it- never Gray. The reasons varied- he was too clingy, he was too famous, he traveled too much, blah, blah, blah- but he always ended up the one being dumped. 

Ethan felt a sudden surge of anger. How  _dare_  she? How dare all of them? Grayson was good-looking, and funny, and nice, and respectful- pretty much the perfect boyfriend. Who did they think they were, anyway? 

"Everyone always says, 'Oh, bro, I wish I was you, you can have any girl you want,' but I really, really fucking can't." Grayson looked up at Ethan, dejected. "What's wrong with me?"

Ethan was floored by the look on Grayson's face. Ethan had always been the more cocky of the two of them, but he had never considered Grayson to be lacking in self-esteem. But now, he seemed so unsure of himself- like he considered himself damaged, or unworthy. And that made Ethan even more angry.

"Nothing's wrong with you," Ethan said quietly. His voice was calm, but Grayson must have seen the intensity in his eyes because he leaned back like he'd been burned. "Absolutely nothing."

Grayson averted his eyes. "Yeah, well, you're my brother. You have to say that."

"I don't have to say shit. The only thing remotely wrong with you is that you apparently go for girls who don't appreciate you.  You're smart,  successful, sensitive, funny, good-looking, with a great body and a big dick. I mean, what more do they want?"

Grayson was momentarily caught off guard by the passion in Ethan's response, and Ethan's eyes widened in horror when he realized what he'd said. It was all true, objectively, but a brother really shouldn't be pointing out the size of his brother's dick. _  
_

But instead of calling him out for being a freak, the corner of Grayson's mouth quirked up. Well, at least Grayson had been amused at the expense of Ethan's dignity.

"Well, it looks like if all else fails, I could get a date with you," Grayson commented with a smirk, a little light coming back to his eyes.

"Shut the fuck up, freak," Ethan mumbled, beyond mortified that he was now _blushing_ on top of everything else. Grayson chuckled and started in on his pancakes with gusto.

He'd never seen Grayson on a date, but if he was anything like he was the rest of the time with girls, he doted on them and spoiled them, almost to a fault. What girl didn't want that? Hell, that was  _exactly_  the type of guy Miss Dolan was looking for.

Before Ethan could examine  _that_  too closely, James called him.

"Hey, James," Ethan answered. Grayson rolled his eyes in faux exasperation.

"What time should I come over tonight?" James asked. "I just went to Barney's and I saw a dress for you, and I couldn't leave it. So you owe me $700."

In the drama of Grayson's news, Ethan had totally forgotten his plans with James. He looked at Grayson for a second, who stared back at him questioningly, chewing with his mouth open.

Okay, so there was _one_  thing wrong with him.

"I don't know if I'm going to be able to make it tonight, after all," Ethan said. "Grayson got some bad news and...I should probably stay home with him."

Grayson shook his head vigorously, but Ethan ignored him, grabbing a spoon and dipping into one of Grayson's milkshakes.

"She broke up with him, didn't she?" James asked bluntly. "I knew that girl was a basic bitch."

"Uh...yeah." 

Grayson finally swallowed and started mouthing something at him, but Ethan was too distracted by the syrup at the corner of his mouth to follow along.

"Well, that's too bad, but I don't see why you should have to cancel your plans. It's not like anyone  _died_." 

"Ian must love having you for a brother," Ethan said drily. Grayson was mouthing at him again, and Ethan waved him off, but not before swiping his thumb on the corner of Grayson's mouth. He licked the syrup off his finger, and briefly thought,  _Wow, they upped their syrup game_ , before he looked back at Grayson, who was staring at him like Ethan had just punched him in the face.

Ethan cleared his throat, realizing too late how awkwardly intimate he'd just been considering their previous conversation. "Umm, hold on James...Grayson's trying to tell me something...."

Ethan gestured for Grayson to speak, trying to pretend like the last five seconds hadn't just happened. Grayson blinked a few times before shaking his head. "Uhh... all I was saying is that you don't have to cancel any plans for me. I'll be okay."

"What did he say?" James demanded loudly, and Ethan winced.

"He said I didn't have to cancel any plans for him, but-"

"Then don't! You offered, he kindly refused. We're going out!" James said, his voice crackling as the reception wavered. "And don't you  _dare_  invite him to come with us."

"Do you want to come with us?" Ethan asked Grayson not two seconds later, and he could hear James groan. 

"That's okay," Grayson replied. He smiled tightly. "James hates when I interrupt his Ethan time."

"I think James would love to have you join us.  _Wouldn't you, James_?" Ethan said into the receiver, his teeth gritted. 

"You're weak, Dolan. Weak!" James complained. "How are you supposed to go out as Miss Dolan with Grayson hanging around?"

"He said he'd love to have you join us," Ethan told Grayson, ignoring James' noises on the other end. "He said it would be a good distraction from your bad news."

"Well...okay," Grayson said, nodding. He gave Ethan a small, grateful smile. "What were you guys going to do?"

"Just go out for a little bit," Ethan said vaguely. He didn't think Grayson really wanted to know more than that. 

"Where?"

Ugh.

"Well...we were thinking about Rage," Ethan answered, scratching the back of his head nervously.

"Tell him you're going out to look for cock!" James said in exasperation. "Ugh, I don't have time for this. I'll see you tonight. Eight-ish. I'll bring food. Bye."

Ethan put down his phone and shrugged. "He hung up."

"Rage?" Grayson repeated. "Isn't that a gay club?"

"Yeah," Ethan said. Grayson wasn't making a face or anything, but the question made him feel defensive. "So what?"

"Hey, calm down. I didn't mean anything by it," Grayson said, holding up his hands. "Just that it's nice of you to do that, for James. It'll be good for me to spend a night away from girls, too."

Ethan swallowed. "Yeah..." 

_**YOU'RE STILL GOING OUT AS MISS DOLAN AND THAT'S FINAL** _

Ethan shoved his phone in his pocket, not bothering to respond to James' text. He didn't have any energy left to deal with him. He certainly hoped he did by eight o'clock, though...or this was going to be one hell of an evening.


End file.
